


Incalculable

by ashtraythief



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, geek!jensen, sex under the influence of too many colorful drinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1590911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtraythief/pseuds/ashtraythief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen doesn’t get out much, he prefers numbers to people. When his friend Chris finally drags him out one night and he stumbles across a guy who looks like all of his fantasies come to life, he decides he could be social after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incalculable

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://smpc.livejournal.com/profile)[**smpc**](http://smpc.livejournal.com/). Thanks to [](http://linvro21.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://linvro21.livejournal.com/)**linvro21** for the beta

 

“Jensen, you need to get out more,” Chris says. “I’m not taking no for an answer anymore. You’re thirty. Even an eighty-year-old in a retirement home gets more tail than you do.”

“Chris-”

“No. Dude. You’ve had sex with like three people, and one of them doesn’t really count because she’s a woman. We are going out tonight.”

Jensen stops protesting. While he thinks it’s strange and possibly inappropriate for Chris to be so involved in his sex life, he also knows that his friend is one of the most stubborn persons he’s ever met. He can’t protest what Chris said though, because he’s right. Well, technically, Jensen only had actual penetrative sex with two people, the third one was just making out, so he’s not sure if that counts - he never really got all the finer nuances of dating. Actually, Jensen doesn’t know what Chris wants to do about this, Jensen is way too socially awkward to meet someone in a bar. Jensen knows this and he’s okay with it. He’s a numbers kind of guy. He’s comfortable with hard analytical facts and long winding calculations. People, not so much.

Chris doesn’t understand this - or maybe he just refuses to, for a security guard he’s surprisingly intelligent - and tells Jensen to ditch the sweater vest and accompany him to a bar. Even Jensen can see it’s a gay bar and he has no idea how someone as hetereosexual as Chris knows about a place that serves neon pink drinks to men in very tight shirts.

Chris drags him to the bar, orders himself a beer and one of those neon colored drinks for Jensen and peruses the clientele. Jensen takes a long drink from his cocktail and stares down the bar. There are two guys sitting there. One if them is blond, gesticulating and not even a blip on Jensen's radar. He’s too busy staring at the other guy who is the epitome of all of Jensen’s sexual fantasies. He needs more alcohol.

The guy is sitting there, laughing at whatever his friend is saying and he’s got dimples, his long hair is flying with his movements and his shoulders are really wide.

Jensen isn’t really creative when it comes to his sexual fantasies, he’s more about efficiency, but he’s aware of the type of man he usually imagines himself with. And that type is currently sitting down the bar, looking even better in real life. In Jensen’s fantasies, they’re usually rolling around the bed. Sometimes they’re in the shower, and one adventurous time Jensen even imagined them in the hallway, the man strong enough to carry him.

The guy is still laughing, but he’s not laughing about his friend, he’s laughing with him. Usually guys who look like they were quarterbacks in highschool tend to still treat Jensen like back in day. This guy though, Jensen’s dream guy, actually doesn’t look like he could ever be mean. He doesn’t look like he would make fun of the glasses always sliding down Jensen’s nose or his mismatched socks.

“Hey, what about that one?” Chris asks, pointing at a guy on the other side of the bar, who’s smiling at them.

“Too surfer boy,” Jensen says without really looking, too busy staring at dream guy and sucking on his straw, quickly getting addicted to the sweet taste of his drink.

“Okay then,” Chris says, not deterred in the slightest. “What about that one? He’s tall and muscled.”

Chris just knows him too well. Still…

“He looks like he’s got an IQ of about eighty-three,” Jensen says sullenly after a short glance, still staring at dream guy and slurping his drink. Not much is coming up through the straw and huh, when did he finish his drink?

Chris orders him a new one - not pink, but blue - and continues pointing out random guys. Jensen continues to decline without really looking, while stealing glimpses of dream guy down at the bar. Eventually Chris catches on.

“Oh, that’s what you want?” he asks with a dirty grin. “Because I can tell you, he might look all nice and harmless, but I can guarantee you that guy is gonna be a beast in bed.”

Jensen says nothing, but flushes up to the roots of his hair. Chris laughs, produces two shots out of nowhere that Jensen both drinks, while Chris tries to convince him to go over to dream guy. Jensen turns even redder and frantically shakes his head.

“Dude, what are you worried about?” Chris asks. “I am a straight guy, Jensen, and even I can see how pretty you are. He’s not gonna turn you down.”

“I can’t,” Jensen says, and his tongue is a bit heavy, and his center of gravity might be weirdly off, because he’s swaying slightly on the barstool. He’s drunk, the analytical part of his brain tells him; apparently Jensen can’t hold his liquor.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Chris grumbles, gets up and walks down the bar towards dream guy.

Jensen watches in horror as his friend talks to the guy, pointing to Jensen. Dream guy looks over to him, gives Jensen a blinding smile and an eyebrow raised in question. Jensen downs the rest of his drink, ignoring the straw. Dream guy offers Chris his seat and walks over to Jensen.

Jensen must be really drunk, because his calculation has been way off, dream guy is at least two centimeters taller than he thought.

“So,” dream guy grins at him, “Chris tells me you’re too shy to come talk to me?”

Jensen thinks his face must be DD040F red by now.

“I’m Jared,” dream guy introduces himself. “And if Chris is right about you just being too shy, well that would make me really happy, cause I’d love to buy you another drink.”

Jared’s still grinning, and Jensen thinks it’s open and friendly. Granted, he’s not the best at reading facial expressions, and he might be more than a tad inebriated, but suddenly without the help of a sixteen page mathematical proof, Jensen is sure, Jared is genuine. So Jensen nods, and Jared orders him a drink. It’s green and delicious. Jensen thinks he might be grinning like a loon, and he probably lost about ten IQ points per drink which would put him somewhere close to a frightening only slightly above average one hundred and twenty-eight, but Jared is smiling and telling him about his dogs, so Jensen doesn’t think he minds.

Rationally considered, he knows that Jared probably only has an average IQ himself, but Jensen looks at his shoulders and his open dimpled smile and finds that he does not care.

 

 

Chris was right, Jared is a beast in bed.

He barely gets the door to his apartment open with they way Jared is plastered all over him, hands firmly planted on Jensen’s hips and kissing his neck. Jensen’s not exactly sure how he ended up making out with Jared against his own apartment door, he just knows there were drinks and dimples involved and possibly some gamma rays, because he doesn't know of any other plausible cause for a human smile to be as bright as Jared’s.

As soon as Jensen gets the door open, they stumble inside and Jared kisses him like Jensen’s mouth is the only source of oxygen. He just barely manages to throw his door shut, before Jared presses him against the wall, taking his face into his hands, foreheads resting against each other and panting harshly.

“Tell me this is okay. Please Jensen, tell me this is okay.”

Jensen doesn't know in which reality this would not be okay, but he can only nod, slightly dazed and Jared goes back to kissing him hungrily. Jensen tries to keep up, but Jared’s hands are in his way, ripping off first Jensen’s shirt and then pulling off his own. Jared starts walking them through Jensen’s dark apartment, unerringly finding his way to the bedroom.

Jared’s hands continue to open buttons, pushing Jensen’s pants down. Jensen knows he looks okay, but despite the alcohol in his system he feels self-conscious next to Jared’s physique. But Jared is looking at him like he’s the last digit of Pi and Jensen is okay.

Somehow, they wrestle out of their pants and fall into bed. Jensen can’t decide where he wants to put his hands so he lets them wander wherever the contours of Jared’s muscles lead. Jared never stops kissing him, trails his mouth down Jensen’s neck. Shivers wreck Jensen’s body and he’s never been this aroused in his life. He knows endorphins and oxytocin are flooding his system but he’d never thought it would feel liked this, like he’s wired and pulled taut, pleasure too much to comprehend, but still not enough.

Jared sucks and bites at his neck and his hand wanders lower, strokes Jensen’s dick, then trails lower, cupping his balls before he pushes between his legs.

“Can I?” Jared asks hoarsely and again Jensen can only nod.

Jared’s bigger, so Jensen guesses it makes sense this way. A bigger dick would obviously lead to a better penetration-pleasure ratio. He reaches over to his nightstand for the lube while Jared rummages around on the floor. In the darkness of the room, Jensen can’t find the bottle in his bedside drawer. Then Jared is back, kneeling over him and his large hand joins Jensen’s in the drawer, rooting around until he lets out a victorious “ha!”

He repositions himself, kneels between Jensen’s legs and goes back to kissing him while he opens him up. It feels weird at first, but it gets pretty excellent soon and Jensen knows he’s a moaning mess, but there’s nothing he can do about it and Jared is not complaining. Then Jared withdraws his fingers and reaches for the bedside table, retrieving a condom. Jensen has a moment to admire Jared’s dick - really an impressive specimen - then Jared rolls the condom on and leans in, head dropping down.

“Fuck. I’m gonna burn in hell,” Jared says and pushes inside.

Jensen doesn’t understand what Jared is saying, but for the first time in his life he doesn’t care about not comprehending something. Jared is too much, feels too good and all of Jensen’s IQ points must’ve jumped ship because he can’t think straight anymore. There’s only Jared moving inside of him, hard and hot, liquefying Jensen’s body with every thrust.

Jensen tries to hold on to Jared, tries to move with him, but he’s too overwhelmed to know if he’s getting it right.

“Oh god, Jensen, you feel so fucking good. I can’t - fuck.”

So he must be doing something right then, Jensen thinks and then Jared angles his hips differently and Jensen has a split second to realize that that must be his prostate, before all his higher brain functions desert him.

“Oh god,” he moans out, and he’d never thought it to be true before, but maybe he was wrong. “Jared, I don’t, I can’t, I…”

“What?” Jared asks, voice choppy. “What do you want?”

Jensen shakes his head. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

Jared’s mouth bruises Jensen’s lips. “Just let go. Gonna take care of you.”

Jensen closes his eyes and just concentrates on everything he’s feeling; the tensing in his body, the waves of pleasure with every one of Jared’s thrusts, the heat where their skin touches, perspiration making them sticky. He feels his heart beat as fast as if he was about to find out if his calculations have been right, and his breath is as quick as it is when he has to run to catch the bus to work.

All of it doesn’t matter though, not when there’s this burning need deep inside of him he can’t identify, can’t even locate, just this diffuse pulling on every fibre of his being that’s screaming for more.

He buries his fingers in Jared’s long hair, damp with sweat, making Jared moan and bite into his collar bone. The pain is an enhancer and for a moment he tries to be quiet, but he can’t keep the moans from spilling out. Jared’s encouraging him, praising him and all the time never faltering, fucking Jensen hard and deep, pushing him closer to the edge.

“More,” Jensen manages to get out, “need more.”

Jared shoves in harder, pushing Jensen deep into the mattress, mouth back on his neck while one hand reaches for Jensen’s dick. The friction and the sharp sting of teeth on his throat are enough to push Jensen over, free falling into nothing, pleasure shooting through his whole body as he comes violently.

“Fuck, fuck, yes.” Jared’s panting harshly, and then he grinds into Jensen, body going taut and hips twitching as he comes.

Jensen’s head is spinning, his whole body feels like he’s floating and when Jared pulls out and uses a tissue to clean him up, he can only grumble a ‘thank you’ before his eyes fall shut. The last thing that registers is Jared’s warm body pressing against his side, then Jensen falls asleep.

 

The next morning Jensen wakes up with the second hangover in his life, though it’s not as bad as when Chris took him out to celebrate his Phd scholarship at MIT. His ass is slightly sore and he groans at the memories. Taking a stranger home with him, even or maybe especially such a handsome one as Jared, was just asking for trouble. When he looks next to him, rationally he knows he shouldn’t be surprised the bed is empty, but it still stings. Looks like Jensen isn’t a robot after all, even if Chris sometimes insinuates the opposite.

Carefully, Jensen gets up and goes to shower. It’s only later that he realizes that not everything in his apartment is where it’s supposed to be. It’s little things; a stack of books a centimeter to the left, the cushions not correctly spaced on the sofa. Someone very skilled searched his apartment. Fuck. Jensen never thought he’d be so gullible. He decides never to drink again.

Nothing is missing and there’s nothing in his apartment a thief could want anyway, so Jensen is flabbergasted as to what Jared - if that’s even his real name - could’ve been looking for. Maybe he was just curious? Jensen discards the thought quickly, but since everything is still there, he decides not to pursue it anymore. He debates calling Chris, but he’s too embarrassed, so he decides to keep this… incident to himself. Still, he can’t help but wonder what Jared, smiling, dimpled, strong, passionate Jared, was looking for.

The answer comes a distracted and sleepless week later, when a man from an agency Jensen’s never heard of before, offers him a job. He passed their security check and they need an analyst of his skill level. Jensen understands that he doesn’t really have the option of turning them down.

When they introduce him to Special Agent Padalecki who will be his handler, Jensen wants to die of shame.

“With all due respect, Sir,” Jared says to Jensen’s new boss. “I think Special Agent Harris would be a much better fit.”

With an eyeroll and a knowing grin, Director Morgan agrees and leaves. When they’re alone in the room, Jared gives him a tentative smile.

“I’m sorry about all this,” he says waving his hands. “But I never lied to you and everything that happened between us was… you know. So, if you want, I’d like to take you out on a date, a real date.”

“I would’ve thought fraternizing with colleagues would be discouraged,” is all Jensen can come up with.

Jared bows his head and looks embarrassed. “Well, it is. But technically you’re not a colleague of mine. You’re not an agent and Harris will be your contact, so we should be fine.”

Jensen tries to think of another reason why they shouldn’t go out, but Jared smiling at him with hopeful puppy dog eyes is very distracting.

“You know nothing about me,” Jensen says. “What if you don’t like me?”

“Erm, well actually,” Jared hedges and rubs his neck, “I read your file. So you know, I know quite a bit about you.”

“And you still want to date me?” Jensen asks dubiously. “That either means you have very bad intel, you’re stupid, or shallow.”

Jared laughs. “No, our intel is good. I don’t think I’m shallow, but compared to you I’m definitely stupid. I just thought we could still go out? I mean, I’m not entirely brainless and the other night, I really thought there was something there.”

Jensen ponders it, and weirdly enough, he knows that there had been much more there than he could comprehend. It’s a paradox, but Jared is still looking hopeful, one dimple gracing his cheek.

“I know nothing about you, though,” Jensen says, trying to find an antidote against Jared’s smile.

Jared shrugs his shoulders. “I’m twenty-seven, I’ve been with the agency for three years. Everything I told you about me, it’s true. I love my dogs, I play ball with a couple of guys from the agency, I like to work out. I’m fairly energetic, but I don’t mind some quality time on the couch, you know, watching ESPN or shark week or something like that. I hated math in high school and I think being intelligent is the sexiest thing ever. What else do you want to know?”

Jensen thinks about the order in his life and the loneliness, about his mismatched socks, and the plant in his apartment that’s the living being he’s had the longest relationship with, except for Chris maybe. He thinks about all the disruptions Jared could bring, and then he thinks about the way he touched Jensen, how he kissed him and how he flashes his dimples every time he’s happy.

All his life, Jensen has pondered every decision carefully, weighed pros and cons and calculated possible outcome scenarios. Looking at Jared, he realizes he doesn’t care.

“I might have some questions,” Jensen says slowly. He takes a deep breath and he feels his lips smile when he asks, “So maybe we can go back to your place next time?”

“Deal,” Jared says with that carbon melting smile. “I’ll even sleep long enough to give you a few hours.”

Jensen feels himself smile back wildly. There’s a lot his mind can analyze in a few hours.

“Deal.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments = an A in math  



End file.
